


The Gamble

by bergerac125



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Gift Exchange, Knockturn Alley, Pre-Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Written Pre-Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 14:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15391191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bergerac125/pseuds/bergerac125
Summary: Montevideo, Uruguay, 1930The Uruguayan team won the first Football World Cup 4-2 against Argentina after an amazing second-half.Total money bet during the World Cup: amount uncertainCarcassonne, Southern France, 1930The Indian national team takes over the young German team 240 to 170, in a very forgettable final, during the 406th Quidditch World Cup.Total money bet during the World Cup: Officially noneKnockturn Alley, England, 1930 (prior to the World Cup)Two young men on a journey to the commit a mischief.Total money bet by them: Hopefully 40 galleons.





	The Gamble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pixie_rose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rose/gifts).



> This story is part of a gift exchange. Main prompt Sunshine (story set during Spring or Summer)
> 
> My native tongue is French and my style of writing is what we call _une nouvelle littéraire_. So this story reflects that genre. It is unconventional but, hopefully, still enjoyable.
> 
> I want to thank my wife, Merawlee, for having had the patience to not only be my soundboard but also my alpha and beta reader. Je t'aime, mon amour.
> 
> Merci et bon été à tous!

Slowly easing his way through the back store, Garrick was feeling more stressed than usual. He’s was not used getting out of the shop by that door, that small inconspicuous door that led to the darkest of places. Nevertheless, after taking the time to look behind himself to make sure no one noticed, he slunk out as silent as a burglar.

The note he had received was a request for a meeting in Knockturn Alley. He truly didn’t like the place. Still, it was the only place where they could get the kind of service they wanted, especially after last year’s events. The note in question was brief and for any other person, wizard or muggles, it would make no sense.

_“Meet me you know where, for you know what, signed You know who.”_

Damn Albus and his secrecy! Granted utter discretion was a necessity if they didn’t want to have the Ministry on their case, but it still chaffed him.

Despite it all, Garrick slowly made is way to the rendez-vous trying his very best to appear nonchalant, to seem as if he had absolutely no problem strolling along in the infamous alley. Needless to say, he was not. The only way he could aptly describe Knockturn Alley was that it stank with the smell of a bad dream. It was something someone felt on a visceral level, not a physical one. Even in the middle of this sunny Summer day, the place seemed to devour everything be it light, air, thoughts, basically anything that was good. No wonder it was the confluence of anything evil and dark, both known and unknown to the wizard community. Even the Ministry was hesitant to survey the place let alone raid it. Some said the Aurors never ever set foot in Knockturn Alley, and for good reasons. It was easy for anyone to get ‘lost’ here.

Although he didn’t like the place, finding his way around was like second nature to Garrick. Not that he approved of anything found in the alley, far from it! But his father made a point about giving all customers, be they from Diagon Alley or Knockturn Alley, the same exceptional service, and since he was often called to make deliveries, he had to know both places well enough to be able to navigate them almost with his eyes closed. As his father always said; “Any possible spell conjured, must be made with the best wand, an Ollivanders wand!”

Suddenly, something intruded his musings. Someone was standing behind him. However, Garrick was far from being scared for he sensed the wand the person was holding. 11 inches long, holly, phoenix feather core.

“Albus are you trying to scare me, because it’s not gonna work if you hold your wand. I always remember wands I worked on and you know that yours is the first I refuse the core to it.”

Traditionally wands were made from a wood known to possess certain magical qualities and a core brought by the future owner of the wand, something significant to him. But Garrick was making huge progress into fusing potent core into known powerful wood regardless to whom the wand was destined. That way, it was more the wand who chose the owner than the other way around.

Albus was the first to have benefited from the new process.

“Indeed you did, and it is working wonderfully, I might add,” his friend gently chuckled. “I am not one to criticize your father’s work, but I tell you, Garrick, the future of your craft will be nothing short of great. Ollivander’s succession is in good hand with your sheer talent and your unsurpassed knowledge of wandlore.”

Though Garrick was not too keen on it, he was destined to follow in his father’s footstep and continue the tradition of the Ollivander family, like his father did when his grandfather died. Ollivanders was one of the oldest shops in Diagon Alley, dating back to 382 BC. There had always been an Ollivander behind its counter and none other than an Ollivander would ever be. Despite it all, Garrick dreamt of a different future for himself. He wanted to go on great adventures, explore the world, discover the unknown! Perhaps it was the reason behind his association with Albus Dumbledore. To get outside his comfort zone, to feel that small rush of adrenaline, to walk on the wild side even if it was just one time.

Just for one night, to not being a Ravenclaw, to do something completely unexpected... something unthinkable like gambling on a quidditch match!

Since the historic final of the 1473 Quidditch World Cup where all seven hundred possible fouls were committed due to heavy gambling and attempts to rigg the outcome, the Ministry and the ICWQC, the International Confederation of Wizards’ Quidditch Committee, had banned all manners of unofficial gambling. The only sort permitted was a bland lottery system overseen by the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Naturally, it did not truly stop wizards from putting money on games, but it was now a lot harder to do so. Back in the old days, Diagon Alley was crawling with betting booths during the World Cup. But now, if one wanted to bet even a single galleon, one had to turn to Knockturn Alley and hope not to get ‘lost’.

There was little risk of that happening with them, or so Garrick hoped. He knew the alley down to the smallest of rock while Albus’ knowledge of any services or goods of any interests, especially the less savoury kind, was unmatched. Together they could navigate Knockturn Alley better than those who haunted it.

Garrick had always admired Albus, the way he made everything sound so easy, any adventure so interesting. There was rumours going around the alleys that he was going to become a professor at Hogwarts, the youngest ever to get the position. Albus was a powerful wizard so it was no surprise.

Albus, for his part, envied Garrick’s sheer knowledge, how he could remember every wand that had passed in his hand, his attention to every little details, his craftsmanship. He was going to craft the most powerful wands ever seen in this era, there was no doubt about it. The wand he held, the first of his kind, was more than enough proof of that. Still, it would most probably be wise to close the shop’s access to Knockturn Alley after Garrick inherit the shop. Powerful magic did call out, after all, and more often than not, those answering the call were not always ‘good’.

It had been that mutual admiration that had brought them together, that had started this unlikely association between the wise and rule-abiding Ravenclaw, and the brave and adventurous Gryffindor.

They slowly made their way through the alley, each seemingly lost in their respective thoughts. They did not need to talk much since they knew exactly where to go and, more importantly, What to do.

They were three doors away from the illegal betting shop when Albus suddenly stopped and then proceeded to enter Borgin and Burkes. This was not the time to go shopping especially not in that shop of all places!

“What the heck! Albus can you tell me what you are doing,” Garrick whispered. “This is not the time. There’s also nothing that would interest you here.

“Quite the contrary, Garrick, there are plentiful of interesting artifacts just sitting on those shelves,” his friend chuckled softly. “I wonder if they have something interesting, maybe a cloak or a stone or maybe even an old wand...”

“Don’t tell me you are still searching for those Deathly Hallows! You know they are just a legend, a children’s story. None of those things really exist. I thought after Grindelwald and what happened to your sister, you would’ve abandoned this foolish hunt.”

“I’m telling you, Garrick, the artifacts are real. We just need to find them. Still, maybe you are right. This is not the time for this. At any rate, I don’t think we can buy them, at least not here...”

The improbable duo continued their way to the betting shop but just as they reached their intended destination, it was Garrick’s time to stop. Of all the time for his nerves to desert him! What was he doing? He was not the adventurer type, not the sort to break the law. He was a wand-maker apprentice!

“Maybe… Maybe, we could wait for the next World Cup,” he told his friend hoping this one would not call him a coward. “I mean… I heard the Ministry is actually thinking of overruling the ban concerning the gambling...”

“Garrick, you know that will never happen. The Ministry is making too much money with their boring lottery to even think about doing otherwise. Every four years the same discussion is taking place and it never leads to anything. If we want to bet, it has to be now.”

Garrick had no choice but to agree with Albus. The speculation about the betting ban arose before every World Cups. The event was held every four years during the summer and each time the gambling issue was raised as was the desire to reinstate the legality of it. But it always ended the same way. Mainly the ban was there to stay.

“Let me reassure you, my friend, that nothing will happen regarding our actions here,” Albus reassured him. “There is no risk. Betting is such a minor offence, after all and let us not forget that nobody knows we are here.”

“How can you be certain of that, Albus?”

“I just am.”

HIs friend’s complete confidence calmed his frayed nerves and, with a nod of his head, they both face the tall grimy door of the betting shop.

_Knock, Knock…_

A huge man with an almost wolfish look opened the door. He was so tall, he nearly had to bend down not to hit the doorframe. Garrick took a slight step back while his friend stood his ground. The man slowly assessed them. Time seemed to freeze for a moment before he spoke to them, his voice deep enough to make his teeth vibrate.

“Well, well! What do we have here?” he said with a strange growling hiss. “The Great Albus Dumbledore and Master Ollivander.” That Garrick was known in Knockturn Alley was no surprise but that the man knew his friend was disconcerting. “Now what would bring such a mismatched pair to the deep entrails of Knockturn Alley? Standing in front of my little shop?” The feral smile that had graced the man’s lips vanished. “If you are here to bet on the the next World Cup, it is not going to be possible. Go back home before you find yourselves in more trouble than you’ve bargained for.” And without saying anything more the man slowly turned his back to them obviously intent on closing the door in their face.

“Can we know the reasons for you to refuse our money? It is not because we are too late since bettings are accepted until tomorrow,” Albus dared to ask. “We just want to place a small bet, not try and let the Ministry in on your little operation…” The man threw his head back and let out a bellow of a laugh.

“Is that a threat, Master Dumbledore? I’m pretty sure you’re aware that the Ministry never puts a foot in Knockturn Alley and they certainly won’t start for an insignificant betting shop. Obviously you have the money, Master Ollivander here is proof enough of that.” The man stopped and crossed his arms over his massive chest, his amber eyes gazing intently at them. “No, I won’t take your money, Master Dumbledore. I’ll give you this little piece of advice though. Do not come back to Knockturn Alley, strive to stay on the right path for your future… no, the future the wizarding community may well depend on the choices you make. That being said, I wish you good day. Do try to enjoy the World Cup.”

The door closed without any further arguments leaving them to stare at the shop with almost identical shocked expression. Albus was the first one to recover. With a determined face, he raised his fist to knock on the door once again.

_Knock, knock..._

_Knock, knock..._

“Harry are you still there?”

“Yes Ron, you can enter I was about to finish,” Harry replied while putting the bottle with the latest Dumbledore’s memory he had acquired in his desk drawer.

“Still working on those memories?” his best friend asked. “I’m not sure what you are going to get from those Harry, I think we pretty much know everything about his life.”

“I just want to understand what made him the man he was, Ron.”

“But understand what, Harry? You know Dumbledore chose his own destiny and there’s nothing we could’ve done about it. Knowing what made him tick won’t change that.”

Harry had been almost obsessed with learning all there was to know about Albus Dumbledore after this one’s death. He had even started to collect every pieces of memories, even the most obscured ones, since he started to work for the Ministry as an Auror.

This latest one had been given to him by a very silent Ollivander. It was, so far, the most perplexing one to date. Who had been that giant of a man? Why had he seemed like he had known what was come to pass? No matter how often he had gone to the wand shop to enquire about that particular day so long ago, the old Master categorically refused to talk about it.

“You have the memory, that’s more than enough, young Potter,” he kept answering.

He knew his friends were concerned about his obsession. He had even overheard them wondering amongst themselves if they should have an intervention. But thankfully Ginny, being the incredible girl she was, dismissed the idea. She knew that researching those memories were one of the only things beside watching Quidditch with a butterbeer that truly relaxed him and kept the dark thoughts at bay.

Harry was not really sure what he was looking for. But after two years and nothing really worth mentioning, he had to admit that he was getting a little tired of sifting through those memories. Maybe everyone were right. There was truly nothing more to find. With all the books about Dumbledore, all the thesis about the Battle of Hogwarts, and everything and anything concerning his life splayed on all the newspapers, all was known and said.

“I know Ron,” he finally answered his friend. “But I think I’m just used of studying them. It gives me something to do when work is slow. Maybe I need something to change my mind… Hey, by the way! Where have you been? We were supposed to have supper last night for George’s birthday but Ginny told me it was cancelled and refused to explain why.”

“I was overseen my brother’s shop and the reason why I’m here now. We need you tonight.”

“Need me? What for?”

“We need to make sure mum doesn’t kill George or worst, keep the Ministry from throwing his ass in Azkaban. If anyone can stop them, it’s you, the famous Harry Potter.” Harry was not too sure he had heard Ron correctly.

“Whoa! Back up and start at the beginning,” he said.

“No time. Hermione will have rounded up the others. We’ve got to leave like now. I’ll say this though, it’s concerning a girl.”

“Wait, George has a girl? Since when?! I thought, you know, that he was still trying to deal with Fred’s death. So, what is she like? That girl?”

“I’ll say this, she’s not someone we encounter often if at all,” Ron chuckled while still not giving him any details. He was now beyond curious.

“Well? What are we waiting for? I want to meet this mysterious girl. She’s not a Veela, is she?”

He shrug on his Auror’s cloak and followed his best friend. All thoughts of the memory of two young wizards braving Knockturn Alley forgotten.

Ron had not seen Harry this excited about something since the fall of Voldemort that was not tied with finding new memories concerning Dumbledore. Closing Harry’s office door behind them, he could not help but hope George’s girl, who was definitely _not_ a Veela, would stay for a while...


End file.
